Unreality
by liliaeth
Summary: As a Forever Knight vampire Xander has to learn to live again. (Buffy/Forever Knight)
1. prologue

When you **Title: **Unreality**  
Series/Sequel:** sequel to Blood Roses**  
Author: **Lore**  
Email Address: ** liliaeth@hotmail.com**  
Pairings: **not an issue**  
Rating: **PG13 for swearing and violence**  
Archive:** sure, no prob**  
Warnings: **Character death**  
Summary:** As a vampire Xander has to learn to live again. 

When you're human it's hard not to know when your body is aching. You can feel it tingle all over. Not just now, or an hour from now, you just feel it and you know …  
You go into the sun and you wince at its burn, as it deepens into your skin. And you stare up, damning it, never aware of how glorious it is. That touch of sunlight, those sweet little touches of … sense. I don't know why I'm saying this. Maybe it's cause I'm alone at night and I don't seem to be so patient now. I don't want to wait for my life to fall back in line. I don't want to know that things will get better again. And I definitely don't want to listen to the beat of that girls heart as it drums inside my ears.  


You know, that kid that's moving through the alley beneath me. There on the street corner, the one who's silently screaming for someone to just take her out of this life, calling out to all comers in her worn out loafers and a skirt that's so short she's barely covered. I can see the lines around her eyes, hiding beneath the layers of make up. Oh so desperately clinging to a youth she wastes with every step of her seven inch heels. I don't want to listen, but yet, here I'm sitting on the wall, staring down, wondering if she'd know I was here watching her and if she'd even give a damn, even if she knew. There's a game playing here, between her and me. But I don't know the rules to win. Not without letting him swallow that last bit of me, that's still me. That last bit of the white knight still skulking around in that head of mine. I refuse to let him get that victory. Him, it, my demon, or beast as Nick calls it.

  
He looks up at her and doesn't even see how her eyes are reddened and filled with tears. The beast just leans over the edge, riveted by the rhythmic drum of her heart. How it rises and falls, exhausted beyond belief. The beast can smell her fear, that tantalizing scent of panic as she stares into the darkness and finds it staring back. "Take her." The beast tells me. "It's not like anyone will find out. No one will ever know you gave in to me. Take her, she won't even be missed." And I look down at the ragged coat that barely covers her back. I can see the haphazard stitches that keep small rags into it. A last ditch effort to keep the cold out.  


Where will she sleep, this child of the streets, that no one seems to care for? I have no idea. And I look up at the stars in the sky, wondering what they'd think of me if I just did it. I don't want to return to those old eyes, begging for the end. But no matter what, I can't stop from hearing it.  
Drum drum. Beat by beat, faster ever faster. I turn back and look, shivering in tremors of lust, my eyes golden in hunger. And there she is, forced up against the wall.

One of my own kind is holding her up, his hand gripped around her throat, slowly choking her as he moves in for the kill. I shouldn't be surprised, her sort is easy prey. Worn out, too tired to care. And I can smell it as the ozone in her blood hits the air. Its sweet aroma free to roam the air once more. Small cracks appear in the stones under my fingers as I hold on, fighting myself not to get involved. I'm not even sure who it is I'm fighting. The beast that longs to kill, or the white knight who wants to ride out in shining armor and head out to save the damsel in distress.  
Both I reckon.

Then I watch in shock as his ashes fall down in the mud. I can't move, just stare down at the stake she's holding in her hand. "Ready to join your buddy here?" I'm almost shocked as she turns into a fighting stance, so ready to fight. It's her eyes that shock me the most though, still tired, worn out.  
I shake no and stay up at my vantage point. She's seeing me now, but doesn't seem to care one way or another. And I just watch as she walks. 


	2. part 1

Part one

**Part one**

Can I believe in dreams I might have one day. I walk alone in the darkness even amongst my brethren, but I knew before I met even the first one, that I'd never want to be like them.  
They wallow in fear. They swallow it, alone, forbidden. They feed on loneliness.  
But it can't be that simple. Not to me.  
No big surprise that I find myself alone. Now is it? She's hunting again. I recognize it now. How she uses her own despair as a bait, knowing how hard it is to resist for any of us. There's a deathwish in this one. I can feel it, taste it with every breath she takes. It cries out to me, more than anything.  
So I follow her from the top of the roof quite aware of the quiet truce between us.  
I don't come down. I'm not her prey.  
It works for me. So it goes on for us both, night after night.  
She hunts our kind, their kind. I hunt her.  
Neither of us ever that long obsessed.  
Maybe it's the death cry inside of her that calls out to me, the way it does to the others. Maybe I can taste that hunger for death. But unlike them I won't answer it, never again.  
We're both lost, lost in life, but unwilling to die easy.  
Unable to find the songs I need before I go.  
Why?  
I don't care.  
I haven't cared in a long long time. She moves up the street, tapping her stake on a garbage lid as she passes it.  
I can hear them as they move up from the darkness, she can't. They're waiting for her, ready, prepared to take her on. Her eyes accept her fate, it's so easy to loose isn't it?  
To slip up. She kicks one, ducks under the fist of another.  
They're too young or too stupid to see it. But the soulless ones usually are.  
I rise up, ready to see, to feel.  
Then I dive down and pull two of them away from her. They stare up at me in surprise. I know the fools hadn't even known I was around before I showed myself. And my back is turned to her as they stare into golden eyes and fangs that gleam in the dirty lantern light. "Why?"  
Her voice sounds almost accusing.  
"If you let go. So will I." 

She stares at me in shock.  
Why?  
I don't know.  
My house, my town, cause I said so …  
There is no reason.  
What I've just done goes in against everything I've been taught. Against every rule of my existence. 

Yet here I sit, ready to die at her hands. She lifts her stake and I close my eyes, waiting for the wood to sink in. And I wait and wait … when I open my eyes she's walking away. Her back is turned to me. I wonder why she trusts me so. And I will go after her, in a few moments. When I'm ready. Ready to face her.  
Even knowing that neither of us will talk. 

But she's still standing there at the edge of the alley, heading back to the street. I get up and go meet her there. 

"I'm Clarice."  
"Xander." I say.  
Neither of us speaks. We just walk on, together. 

The night after I'm waiting for her.  
She smiles as she becomes aware of me. Then she moves.  
How can she feel so safe, knowing that I'm here. Maybe cause she doesn't need to feel safe. It's still in her that urge to die, that gleam of hopelessness. That feeling she's seen everything there is to see in life. 

As if this is all there is to feel and it isn't worth it, so why bother.  
I jump down, landing right behind her.  
She doesn't even startle.  
I walk beside her and take her to an ice-cream parlor. She's so much younger when she smiles, her lips covered in chocolate. She wants to offer me a bite and I pull back, instantly startled. I just look at her. 

We're old the two of us. Older than our years.  
Me because of the beast inside of me, because of what it makes me.  
She because she's seen what no man, or woman is ever supposed to see.  
Too much I reckon. 

"So why don't you just kill me?"  
I nearly choke at the bluntness. It reminds me of another lady of crude honesty and for a second I forget I don't need to breathe. 

"Don't worry, you don't have to answer."  
I nod.  
I should kill her. It's what I should have done the moment I found out what she was. A Slayer, a hunter of my kind. Yet I can't find it inside myself to do so. 

It's so unreal, the two of us. And for a moment, for the first time since a long time, the things I feel are not a joke. It's so unreal to just sit here with her and I love the things I feel. 

Maybe it's just as simple as that. Feeling, caring, knowing I can sense life again.  
And I owe her for that. Pure and simple. 

My silent vigil continues and in time we both learn to trust once more, to care. Even if only one another. 


	3. part 2

Part Two

**Part Two **

I grab for the bottle and touch it with the tips of my fingers. Squeezing it in between them while stroking it. I close my eyes, and listen to its siren song of temptation, willing myself to resist it for as long as I can. Why do I even do this to myself, it's not like I have to or anything. I should just open it, let the aroma touch my nostrils, empower me. To just taste the emotions, the thoughts of whomever the blood belonged to. I can smell the fear in the blood, a fear to die, a fear for worse. That's why I refuse I guess.

I don't want to admit I hunger for it, that I need it. Like an addiction that I can never quite quit. I keep it an inch away from my nose, barely out of reach. "You want to be alone with your bottle?" I shriek back and the bottle drops between my hands. It crashes against the ground. The blood splatters up, bits of it hit my pants and drop on my knees trying to save it, sipping my fingers in it, licking them of. "Xander?" She stares at me, her eyes wide open.  
How can she be surprised, she knows what I am. I never lied about that. Never. Unlike a certain dark brooder of the night I know.

I crawl back, trembling in shame as I realize what's happening, what she's seeing.  
I want her to run, to leave my alone with my shame and the blood spread on my clothes as I lunged for it like an animal.

"I'm sorry." For a moment I'm not sure if it's her or me who's saying it. 

Then I realize it's her. Why? What does she have to be sorry for?  
I'm the one who … "Yeah well, you know I'm just one of them deadboys." I snipe at her. Much harder than I ever intended it.  
"Now see what you did to my lunch."

She should go all angry now. But she's not. "I'm sorry. Was that…"

I interrupt her.  
"Human?" My voice sounds angrier than it's supposed to be.  
"Of course it is. What else did you think I eat. Cow? Like some tamed pet that you can keep huddled at your feet to do your bidding."  
I won't tell her that's what I usually eat. She's grossed out, as she ought to be.

But still she isn't angry. "Yuck!" You can say that again.

My grocery bag is still standing there, empty.  
The bottle of human was supposed to be my treat. I saved up for it after weeks and weeks of cow. Building up my strength. I don't want to drink to much of it. I can't count the number of bottles my grandsire sent me, that are now resting up the crooked boards above my hide out. The ones I won't touch, no matter the threats he makes. And the ones that make him smile every times he smells them, because he knows I won't throw them away. Human is an addiction.  
It isn't so much the taste, the scent, the knowing of what it is. There's a presence in it, feelings, awareness.  
When it's fresh enough.  
I sip my lips, wetting them.  
Oh God the need.

I put my fangs in my wrist and slit it open, draining from the vain, anything to overcome this lust. "I'm sorry, she repeats. Then she leaves. I don't even dare look after her, to afraid for my own control. Or lack of it. I just sit here, staring at the blood caked on the floor. It's dried up, such a nice mixture between red and brown. Its scent almost overcomes me. I move away. 


	4. part 3

Part Three

**Part Three **

My feet slump through the mud as I move up to the wall.  
The apartment building is small. Barely 20 levels. I don't need to get further up than the first. One level up and miles away as it turns out. The door's locked. I could so easily break it, but why bother? This place is dangerous enough as it is, without ruining one of the few lines of defense these people got.

I fade in the shadows and listen for anyone approaching before I float up. I can feel my hair rushing around my face till I freeze in front of a broken window. It's on the third floor. It's half open. I try and move it further but it's stuck. 

It takes a bit of effort but I still manage to crawl through. The place is empty, abandoned. No surprise, the wood of the window is cracked. There are big splinters of glass missing as well. Someone broke in before me and from the marks on the floor, at that time, there was someone living here. The scent of death still hangs in the air here. The blood is old, stale, but I can still smell its presence. 

I close my eyes and get out. Out, before I get any more crazy ideas. The door doesn't even lock, it's been forced open from the inside. Insanity.   
Not even the darkness stops me, for me the stairs are as clear as day. As far as I can remember a day to be at least. 

I haven't seen the sun in so long. I hit the wall and break a hole through it.   
Stupid stupid.   
I could hit myself. 

The Slayer's been here, a lot. She must have been patrolling this place for quite a while. The scent is old, clinging in the walls, in the entire atmosphere of the building. I'm shocked to find how long that despair has already been in it. 

There's a dark spot on the door where the number is supposed to be. The metal plaque is missing. I can just barely spot a one and a three.  
She's inside, I can smell her and someone else with her.   
Someone old, familiar.

An old woman opens the door. She's gray, with a frail thin body and carefully made up hair. Red strands fight for a last place in between the silver. The eyes hidden behind thick glasses pierce through me. Then that wrinkled hand filled with liver spots goes up to her forehead and lifts the glasses for a second. 

For a moment I look at her eyes. Green, clear. I know those eyes. I know her. It's on the tip of my tongue. I know her name but how?

"Xander?" The voice is cracked, hesitant. She coughs for a moment. It doesn't fit with those eyes. I'm ready to flee in an instant, knowing that this woman knows me. And she's standing there, staring at me as if in doubt whether to just keep staring at me from behind the seeming safety of the door or to slam it in my face. 

"Hello Willow."  
Hell that sounded odd, even to me. 'Hello Willow.' Such a strange normal phrase. And quite out of place here.  
She can't keep her eyes of mine. Her feet seem frozen to the spot. She reaches out to me, her fingers just inches away from where the barrier for a demonbreed would be.

"Xander?"  
It sounds as if she can't even believe that I'm really standing here. She's not alone in that, I can hardly believe it myself.

We stare at one another. Our eyes never break contact.  
Then she's there, the Slayer. In between us and pushing Willow away.

"You're invited." she tells me.  
I shake of my confusion and step in.   
Good, no need to tell them that my kind doesn't need an invitation. I could enter her home at any time I choose and drink her blood. If I'd be careful I could have them both dead before either even noticed something had happened. 

I'm still staring at Willow. The way she looks at me, scared, fighting not to be happy to see me. 

"I'm sorry Miss Rosenberg. I know I should have told you. But ..."   
The Slayer seems to have been less than forward about me. Can't really blame her.   
"This is Xander. He's been helping me out on patrol lately.  
He's safe. Really he is."  
The kid puts more fate in me than I do.

Willow seems to be coming out of her shock. I can hear the words whispered between her lips.  
"Vampire."

I move in and start checking out the place.   
There's one picture on an otherwise empty table. The wallpaper is slightly gray but otherwise still doable. I stare at the picture again. Me, Willow and Buffy. I have one just like it in my lair. Lair... what a word. Nevertheless, it seems more apt now than ever.

"Xander?"

I notice an old lumpy couch in the back of the apartment, near to the window and sit down on it. I put my left arm on the support and lean back, never taking my eyes of Willow.  
I don't want to explain. She doesn't need to know anyway.  
Neither of them do. The truth is dangerous. It can only get them killed.  
Let her make her own conclusions. Good or bad.

She's trembling.  
Is she that afraid of me? "I'm not out to hurt you Will. You'd be dead or turned if I were." She's standing there staring at me. I can feel it. That cold hesitation.  
When she finally nods it's as if a certain string of mood is broken in the air.

I release a breath I hadn't even known I was holding. Not needing to breathe can do that to you.  
She comes closer. The trembling has lessened. It's different though. She's still somewhat shaky, but the scent of fear is lessened somewhat.

"How? You're still ..."

"Young and beautiful." It's a joke. A lame one, but a joke. I haven't been cracking jokes in a long time. It's strange to fall into old familiar patterns with her.  
It's strange to see her smile on that tattered face.  
Still my Will. Still alive.

"You know eachother?"  
Clarice seems almost shocked at the notion. So much like we were when we were young. Unable to believe that old people might actually have a life beyond theirs. I turn back to Willow and take her hand in my own. My nails are slightly sharper than they used to be, but I'm slow and gentle.

"Most of the others died." she says.  
Did I say that out loud or was she just reading my thoughts again.   
"It's been just me, Angel and Spike lately. "  
Then she looks up, "And you.".

And me. 

"Three vampires and me." she coughs as she says the word.   
I watch her as she takes a handkerchief out of her bag. I get up, ready to help her if needed. She just takes a step back, still not trusting me.  
"But you're dead too, aren't you?"  
"Sorta."

Her eyes pierce through me, breaking me apart. She takes another step back, pulling herself straight.

"You're not Xander. You're just a monster with his face. Just his body..."   
I know she's forcing herself to say those words, yet they hurt more than she can possibly imagine.

You can't go home again.  
No way, no how.  
And I turn to her, hoping she'll take me back in. Let me come home again to all that ever mattered to me. But she won't and I can't ask. I'm no longer who I was then.

Xander Harris died. Long live Xander.

She touches a jewel around her neck. This is the first time I see what it is. A crucifix. My Jewish Willow, the Wicca. And she's wearing a cross.  
It's so unlike her that I don't even feel the burn as she points it at me before she takes a step closer.

I step back.  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"Damn sure you shouldn't have."  
She sounds angry, but I can feel the hurt in her voice, unsure who she's angry at. Herself, the world, me ... Probably all at once.

I leave the house and I can hear the silent tears drop from her eyes even as I land in the alley. She's shaking and I can smell her scent mingle with the girls.

I shouldn't have come here.

****


	5. part 4

Part Four ****

Part Four

I crawl up the stairs to the attic I'm staying at. It's right under an old bell tower. The bells are long since gone, but it gives me plenty of shadows and the freedom I need. I hear the steps creak under my feet and float up an inch. Just enough to stop touching the ground.

I could have flown in, to hell with hovercars or the old fashioned walking. I just couldn't.

"Hurt you didn't she?"

I practically jump out of my skin as I hear his sniped voice. Hard, sarcastic.

"What did you expect boy. That they'd just welcome you and you could go back to whom you were during your mortal life. To just go back to a Slayer, protect her, stand at her back. Even knowing she doesn't really need you."

He whispers in my ear. I can feel the breath he takes touch my skin. He hangs over me. I shiver at the nearness.

"You still think you're the white knight. Don't you boy?"

"Shut up!" I yell the words, but they don't even faze him in the slightest.

"Why should I?"  
LaCroix is the semblance of calm. So cold, I can't take it and fly up at him. Forcing us both against the wall over us. Up to the top of the belltower. We're out in the wind now and I hold him up against the beam that holds up the whole tower. The worst is that he's allowing me this semblance of control, while all the time he's the one in power. He could destroy me in a second. That's how powerful he is. His power radiates from inside of him and I can feel it. I want to be near it, to touch it.

Our eyes meet and he's smiling. Thrilled at my urge to destroy I reckon.  
My sires sire. My grandfather.  
Oh god Janette, what did you pull me into all those long years ago?

I let go and float away from him before landing. He just descends slowly as he straightens his collar, pulling it in pure order. I need something to drink. Not even a hesitation enters my mind as I go up again and pull a bottle out of the place underneath the boards. It's drained before I even realize what it is. I'm so hungry, shaking still. The human blood goes through my throat and I can feel the mans fear as the blood was taken.

My beast is taunting me with his unbridled hunger and pleasure. I know I'm an animal, dark, destructive and I want to stop drinking but I can't. I just need it too much.

"Why are you here?" I take another gulp.  
"I don't want you here."

He snorts at my words.  
Who cares what I want.

"You need me boy."

I want to claim my independence. I want to refuse any connection to him. But I can't. He's a part of me. I'm his and I shiver as he comes closer again. He pries the empty bottle out of my fingers and I look at him.  
There's a mirror hanging at the other side of the room. A permanent reminder of what I am. It reflects neither of us. I turn around. The general face seems arrogant, but that doesn't say anything. He's got every right to be arrogant. It's who he is.  
But what am I?

"I don't. I'm not …" doing anything wrong, I want to say but he silences me with one glare and that twitch of his left eyebrow.

"But she only goes after the obvious ones. The ones the enforcers would take out anyway. Them and the Demonbreed."

"And you think that makes it right?" his voice is filled with fake disbelief.  
"She's a threat to all of us."

"She doesn't even know about us." I look up, trying to face him, but am forced to look away almost instantly.  
"I didn't tell her."

I know he doesn't believe me. But I'm not stupid. If I told her, she'd have to die. They both would. The slayer and Willow. It's a secret to many have died for, I can't just betray it.

When a smile cracks open his face again, I shiver once more.

"Keep her in sight. If she does become a threat, kill her."  
He disappears through the window, but his last words before he leaves ring through my head.  
"It's not like you've never killed a Slayer before."


	6. part 5

Part Five ****

Part Five

I can feel the voices behind me. They're watching me, looking and fading away again. I know they'll keep an eye on me, even if only to be sure. But they're there. The only reason they haven't acted yet, must be LaCroix. His protection, his bloodline. They wouldn't dare interfere. But if I overstep the boundaries that watching won't last.

The Slayer is waiting for me.  
She's on a bench. Her coat covered over it, making a clean place to sit. She must be freezing.  
Her sweater is obviously to thin for the weather.  
I sit next to her, even though I can't share body heat. I cross my arm, the cold barely even touches me. She on the other hand is shivering like crazy. But her hear is beating fiercely and she's staring at me.

I'm wearing a coat for camouflage amongs humans.  
It's ragged, but I still hand it to her and she takes it. She hesitates a second before accepting.

"Xander?"

I stay silent, staring into the fog.

"Who are you?"

It's a question she should have asked ages ago.

"My Watcher knows you."  
The words have a tinge of anger about them. As if I've stepped on something I shouldn't have. I'm not supposed to know anyone but her I guess. And her watcher is hers too. We're not supposed to be connected. It doesn't fit her ideas of what things are supposed to be like.  
"She was furious when I … that you …"

"I'm a vampire Clarice. She's supposed to be worried. So should you for that matter."

"Who are you?"  
How can I answer If even I don't know the answer.

"Nobody, just a vampire, a tired vampire."

She wants to ask more, but I silence her with a look.

"You're not a killer" How can she be so certain of that. I'm not even certain.

"Aren't I?"

She lets out a wry chuckle.  
"Oh yeah, you're the dangerous killer. Who spends all night helping me out. When do you kill then Xander? During the day, while hiding under a blanket?"

OK, that's one for her. I don't kill, not anymore. Not if I can help it at least. And she knows I haven't killed a soul since I started following her.

"Are you cursed?" Her eyes are big and hopeful.  
"Like Angelus?"

That does it. I start laughing. Is that what she thinks I am. Cursed. Safe as long as I don't have a moment of perfect happiness.  
If only.  
Things aren't that simple for me.  
I stop laughing as I realize that being souled is the natural state for me. No excuses for my killing, no possible apology. Noone to blame for me.  
I can't split my actions in two periods, before or after. All I've done since I was brought across was all me. Even the beast is me.

"So are you? Souled."

"I don't know Clarice. I was never cursed that I know of. I'm just … me."

Her eyes seem calculating. As if she wants to know more. I can see it in the moves of her body, the way she twists around. She wants to know more. I can't tell her more.

I'm almost glad as I hear the distraction. Someone's here.  
He's here.

She wants me to talk. But I just move away from her. She sprints after me. I don't even face her. His laughter echoes through me. He's waiting for me to slip up. So are they. I refuse.  
She sees the other almost before I do. A demonbreed feeding on his prey.  
The girls to close to death to save.

I growl loudly and he stares up, dropping her. The girl slips of the bench and on the ground. She's still twitching but in the grip of death. I'm too late, again.  
His mouth is open as I stake him. In shock I reckon.

I'm a monster.

"Why do you want me to think you're a monster?"

I stare up and look at her. Is she crazy, she knows what I am, how can she even ask?

"You're not a monster Xander. I'd be death if you were."

Keep thinking that girl. It's what Buffy thought. And look where she's now.  
I stumble away from her, refusing to turn back to her.

"Fuck it Xander. I'm not talking about fighting for me, you stupid idiot."  
Her voice sounds shrill in the night air.  
"Don't you realize that you're the only thing that keeps me grounded to life. The only reason I still choose to live, instead of just letting myself be taken by some unknown nobody on the streets."

I'm surprised she knows. I didn't think she even got the point.

"You shouldn't think like that. I'm a monster."  
I grab the crucifix on the band around her neck and can feel it burning in my skin. It hurts, but I have to make her see.  
"I'm dangerous. I'm a demon."

She smiles, "Are you?" she still doesn't believe me. There's a complete trust in her eyes and I run from it. Refusing to accept it.

I can see him in the shades, staring at her. Assessing her as en enemy, I'm not sure.  
I let go and start running. I never quite stop.

Buffy didn't run. She didn't even try. Not even when my fangs touched her skin.


	7. part 6

Part Six ****

Part Six

*** 2009 ***

I'm not sure what exactly it is I'm doing here.  
I watched the funeral from a distance. It happened just after nightfall. Late enough to have the darkness protect the two vampires that were actually invited and incidentally me.

Angel nodded to me as it began but he hasn't made a sign he's aware of my presence since. Willow is saying something over the grave and I can see someone holding Anya in his arms. Buffy just stands there. Cold, still, almost impatient as if she's urging them to just get on with it and close the hole in the ground that holds the man who was her Watcher almost since she was called.

I still can't believe it. Giles is dead. Really dead. And in such a stupid way too.  
A traffic accident for crying out loud. The man fights the forces of evil for most of his adult life and he ends up dead because some drunk couldn't keep his eyes on the road.

I can see Spike's the last to go. He empties a bottle of booze on the new grave. A sign of respect from his side. I wait for them all to be gone before I approach. Everything is silent and I kneel next to the grave.  
The gravestone is standing next to the slot. Ready to be placed.

It's simple. Just his name, date of birth and death. And a simple phrase.  
"He taught us how to live."

I can feel her eyes in the back of my neck and turn around. She nods and I start running. She gives me a few seconds headstart before coming after me. I jump over some obstacles, desperate to get away and unwilling to fight. The woman is ruthless, her hunt is without mercy. Not like it used to be when we were young. But then again, I was never on this side of the hunt before.

I stumble and she looms over me. The years have made her eyes cold, almost lifeless. How much of that is because of losing to much too soon.  
She recognizes me, not that it gives me anything. Probably quite the opposites. It is only a reminder of how much she's lost.  
I'm not yet ready to die so I duck back and block her strike.

Incredible, I actually succeed. I grab for her stakes, she beats hard but I avoid her and she falls over. My face shifts and I stare at her through vampiric eyes. She rolls out of the way and strikes again. Furious, with measured hits.

"Can't take me Xander?"

I go wild and attack her. She's lying on the ground as I hover over her. Ready to attack.

"Come on you bastard. Kill me. Do it you damn vampire. Kill me!"

And I look at her. Her wild blond hair, loosely spread around her face. Unkempt, wild. Her funeral attire is clean but there are shreds into it from the fight.  
Her eyes are near to death, without hope, with a complete lack of fight inside of them.

I back of, she wasn't after my life. All she wanted was for me to take hers.

"I can't Buffy."

"Damn it Xander. Be a man, be a vampire. Kill me. Have your good day."

But I can't do it and I nearly break under the pain in her eyes.

"Please my Xander shaped friend. If you ever cared for me… do it… Kill me"  
And she bears her throat, ready for me to take it. I step back, she follows.

"Please Buffy no."

"I don't want anyone else to do it Xander. But I will make them if you won't."  
I remember the sight of Angel and Spike at the funeral. Both hanging around Buffy, dead concerned. Having to kill her would destroy either of them.  
"There's plenty of killers out there", she says, but I know of who she's really talking of.  
"Let it be someone I loved.  
Please my brother. Help me end it."

I'm so in shock, so unable to think. Her neck gives in all too easily and she's smiling as I can't let go of it. Her blood whispers to my own. Its song holding a strength of its own, completely unlike anything I've ever drank before.

"Buffy!"

*********

I wake up screaming her name. The Slayer, my friend.  
The one I killed.  
I am a killer, a monster.  
Why?  
My tears fall down on the pillow and there's nothing I can do to make them stop.

"Who's Buffy?"

I jump up and face the darkness, hearing her heartbeat clearly. She's looking at me in concern. My coat is in her hand as if to say I can have it back now. No ties, nothing to pull us closer no more. I crawl out of bed and try and cover myself. Anything to avoid her eyes. I can see her shadow lenghten until it reaches my bed. Even in the darkness I can see every spot on her coat. I still turn the light on.

"What do you want? You're not supposed to be here."  
I smile in irony, thinking she's not the first one I've said those words too. My words echo through the empty places of the room. I tremble, thinking of LaCroix and grab for a pair of boxers.

"So who's Buffy?"

"A Slayer. I killed her."

The words come out so simple, so straightforward. If only it was that easy. She's shocked and takes a step back. About time she realizes how dangerous I am. For some reason, I can't let her think I want to kill her. I'm not even sure why.

"I shouldn't have done it. I should have …"

Clarice looks at me almost hopeful, she wants to hear an excuse, a reason to let it go.  
"But she wanted to die didn't she?"  
So insightful, my head slouches in between my legs and I fall still. I stop breathing, stop doing anything.

"She begged me to kill her. I didn't want to do it. But she was so …"  
I never wanted to hurt her. Then, intentions and actions… not always the same thing.

"She shouldn't have done that to you."

She shouldn't have? I'm the killer here, can't forget about that. But part of me agrees with her. It wasn't right for Buffy to make me kill her. But can I blame her for that.

"I tasted her blood. So sweet, so calm."  
She snorts at that.  
"It touched out to me, her pain, her shame. That's all I felt in it. Acceptance of death and shame. All …"

"Xander?" She sits down next to me on the bed. I can feel her hand on my shoulder. I'm just rocking back and forth. Not really sure why.

"She was like a sister to me. A very good-looking sister that you ogle under the shower. Ready to run as soon as she spots you. So completely of limits that you couldn't love her but from a distance. And I did love her. And I killed her."

I don't know why she doesn't stake me for that. She should. I deserve to die final death. She just hugs me, trusting me mere inches away from the veins in her neck. Those veins, they're drumming right under her skin. The beast inside me wants to go for it. I won't let it. When she pulls back, my face is streaked red with tears.


	8. part 7

unreality7 ****

Part 7

A soft moan leaves my lips as I wake up with her lying on the back of the bed. I move up slowly and get out of the sheets. I'm still half dressed, so I don't have to worry about the kid seeing too much. She's nestled in the bedcover and I pull the rest of the sheets over her as well. She looks so young with her eyes closed and the weight of the world missing from her shoulders. 

A Slayer.  
The girl is so young. They always are. How can she have gained so much understanding in so short a time.  
Seventeen going on a thousand.  
Yet all alone, lonelier than any child should be. I rest against the wall for a second as I look at her, wondering.   
Why is she so alone. She should be having Willow, her Watcher. Has my old friend changed that much that she'd abandon this child to her own self? To her duty.  
What did I really do when I killed Buffy. Was that what broke the camels back and destroyed her kindness. Has she become that unable to care for this child.

"Nice job young Alexander." I turn around.  
"Not even a hundred years and already you manage to bed a Slayer."  
I don't mistake his misconception. It's none of his business what there is between me and the girl. He stares at me, sniffing the air. Not that it will tell him much. I wipe the last bits of dust from my muddled eyes.

"LaCroix." I say the word in a motion of derision. When will I ever learn. He's on me before I can even blink, grabbing me by my throat.

"Are you insane child."

I try and mutter something. He throws me away to the wall at the other side of the room. I want to crawl away, but he forces his feet on my chest, kicking me down. 

"Please Master." I can't get up, just stare at him. He lets me go, but I stay kneeled at his feet.  
For the first time in years I actually fear for my life. I've fought for survival, to deny death. But I haven't fought simply to live in so long that it shocks me. I still face his glare. I refuse to give in. But yet, I want to live. I want to be here the day after today and 'live'.  
I fight to hold his attention on me and ignore her.   
But I can feel it inside of me, an urge to live. That sensation that my life is worth fighting for.

He moves away a step, giving me a chance to get up.   
Then he smiles. A simple movement of his lips that scares me more than any threat he could have made.  
"Don't forget caution young Alexander. I can not hold of the Enforcers forever. If you overstep the boundaries, I won't be there to protect you or the Hunter."

I can't believe it. He is granting me his permission. I take a look of her and stare back at him in shock

"Thank you master." I stutter it out.

She's awake. Her stake is in her hand and she's staring after LaCroix who just nods at her congenially before flying away through the window.

She jumps up, staring after his fading figure. She looks at me, as if asking what she saw was real. She can wait a long time before I answer that question.

"Who is he?" Her eyes are still glued to the outside world.  
"Another forbidden question Alexander?" She emphasizes my full name, the way only my sire and my birthparents do and did.

"The name's Xander." My harsh tone surprises even me. I didn't know the name bothered me that much. I guess it does. It's someone I'm not. Alexander Harris. His fathers little scapegoat for all his drunken troubles and Janettes boy. LaCroix' grandson. Neither of those two are really me, nor do I want them to be.

"How dangerous is this guy?"

"Depends. The less you know, the safer you are. Of him and … others."

I don't think she understands the risk she's taking by asking for more. At long last she's willing to let it go and I sigh in relief. I take a bottle out of the fridge and put it in the heater. The machine's old. Early 21st century junk. But it's cheap and it works. How much more can a guy like me want. She pulls her nose up when I pour the blood in a cup with kiss the librarian on it. It's an old memory that I liberated from Giles' stuff before I left Sunnydale the last time. It's stupid really, I just wanted to have something that proves my old life was real.

The blood tastes awful as usual and I pull a face as I sip it.

"Human?"

"Are you kidding?" I look at her, saying it in a kidding tone.  
She isn't smiling this time.  
My smile fades away and I vaguely hear myself mutter 'cow'.   
"The taste's horribly flat. I hate the stuff."

"Then why do you drink it?"

"It's better than nothing. You do not want to see me starving. It's not a pretty sight. For me or anyone else."  
Her grin's a bit sickly.  
"You asked." I snipe before moving to the window. There's clouds hanging over the moon and I hang out in the night air. She joins me at the big window, sitting down on one corner.

"This master…" I leave out a deep groan 

"No!"

"Why not?  
He's a vampire, a master vampire."

Yes. Why not. It'd help me get rid of him. But I tremble at that thought. Whatever else LaCroix is, he's family. More. I am of his blood. Even knowing he has killed, even knowing that he will kill again. But right now, he's probably the only thing keeping the Enforcers of our back and he's kin. That more than anything should matter. Shouldn't it?

"I'm … he…"

"Is he your maker?"   
The question makes it sound so cold, unconnected, without emotions. That while it's one of the most emotional things you can possibly imagine.

"He's not my sire. His daughter, my mother was."

"Wait a second your mom turned you?" She seems shocked at the very idea.

"Yes, .. no, of course not. It's what I call her, my sire, mother, master. It depends of how close we are at the time. It's like a bond between parent and child. Closer than birth.  
LaCroix sired my master. He taught me about life as a vampire, made me sociable.  
Memories of being beaten into shape as he got me ready for going back into public without killing anyone are harsher than I want them to be. "I owe him. He's dangerous. Very much so. But the city is safer with him in it, than without him."

It's a truth, but not the whole truth. Not the fact that I don't care about this town or its people. All I care about is to keep her alive. I don't even really know her. All I care about is that she's the Slayer and this Slayer won't die because of me. Not again.

She knows so much. But I wonder sometimes as I see her staring my way, how much she really knows.


	9. part 8

unreality8 ****

Part Eight

I see her standing at the door as I drop the kid of.  
A frown that seems to shoot fire is in her eyes and I avoid it as best as I can. There's nothing to say between us. I'm to concerned about the sun that's about to come up behind the horizon and she's doing her best to ignore I'm even there. The cold hard woman that orders the Slayer inside is so at odds with the young girl I used to know that it might as well be someone else.

I act as if I don't even notice, but it hurts to know that she doesn't even consider me enough of a person to warn me to stay away from her charge. Clarice invites me in, but I beg of, there's no way that I can get out of the sunlight if I lose any more time. She offers me to stay. Willows frown grows, but the kid doesn't see it.

I beg of and head for the car. I know she's still looking at me. Her stare pierces me like a stake. Something's wrong. I try to move my feet, but they won't respond. I hear Willows voice muttering some kind of spell. I try to shake it of, but I can't. I'm not even sure that I want to. At least it means she's willing to confront me. Or does it?

She decks me but good. An attack I hadn't expected. I go against the ground. I try and move my neck, but I can't even do that, I won't even start about trying to get up. She pushes a cross in my face. The pain forces my eyes to go red for a second before they return to their natural golden.

"Why? Why do you do this?"

"I just want to help." I try, but she refuses to listen to a word I say.

"You're … I don't know what you are. Vampire, demon" her voice is shaking and more than anything I want to take her in my arms and comfort her. To tell her that it's alright, that I'm souled and that I'm still the same person I was when we were kids. But I can't do that. Not without telling… 

"I remind you too much. I didn't mean to."

"Why?"

"Why not?"   
It's more of a statement really. She lets go of me and I try and get up, touching the burn and feeling it fade under my fingertips. I can smell the sun rising, I can feel it coming closer and closer. I really need to find cover.

"Xander?" I tremble at the intensity of her gaze. Our eyes meet and something dawns in her face. As if she sees something that's there that she hadn't expected.  
"How?"

"You know the deal Will. They suck your blood; then you suck theirs. There's a whole lot of sucking involved."  
That's not what she wanted to know, but it's all she gets. She looks hurt. Once again I ache to tell her. 

The Slayer is looking at us in abject shock. I know I have to get to my car, but I'm afraid it's to late even for that. I can't imagine how glad I am that I followed Nicks advice about transportation. No matter how good a car looks, first check for trunk capacity. The one I have, is just big enough for me. It's underneath the car, so there's little or no risk for rays of sun leaking in.

Suddenly I feel the first signs of light. It's like warmth on my face. I'm swinging in between terror and an urge to cry out for a few more seconds when I feel something pulling me inside. I look up and see Clarice holding my arm. It's too late to go back out and get into the car. 

It's been too late a long time ago.

Willow stares at me from inside the kitchen. She's stirring her tea as she stares at me. I feel uncomfortable as I look up and watch her every move. My arm twitches and I stay still. I don't dare move an inch out of fear to call too much attention on myself. Willow offers me a cup, but I have to refuse.

She looks away and notices the mirror on the other side of the room. Clarice is sitting on the couch in it. But there's no sight of me. No reflection at all. Yet another reminder of what I am.

//"You must forget. I'm just a normal vampire."//  
For a moment her eyes glaze over and I think it might work, but then she shakes her head and I loose any inch of control I ever had. For a moment it seems she won't even realize what I did, but then she throws me a furious glare.  
"Would it help If I said sorry?"

"What did you do to me?"  
Her determined glare is as forceful as ever.

"Damn it Xander. You can't go around, controlling people like that and still expect people to trust you.  
It's just not done"

"Would you ever again?"

"Would I what?"

"Trust me?"

She doesn't even consider it worth an answer.

I finally lift my hands in surrender and lean back in the couch.

"You tried to hypnotize the Watcher? Wow.   
Your master must really not like you blabbing, if you'd risk that."

"Master?" Willow seems incredulous. I ignore her for a second and turn to the kid, begging her to stay quiet. 

"You have a master?" Willows voice goes one step up in shock. I still don't face her.  
"You mister 'I laugh in the face of authority as soon as they turn their back'?"

"Please don't ask. It's dangerous. For all of us." Please let them leave this alone.  
"He's worse than Snyder."

Willow actually smiles as she hears that. "Than Snyder?" she makes it utterly sarcastic, as if no one could possibly be worse than Snyder.

I just grin back  
"Well okay, that might be a bit exaggerated. He comes close though."

We both chuckle for that moment of shared memory. For just a single moment it's like we're kids again. Smiling about the dangers we faced day in day out, trying to forget that we could die at any time. No matter how much Buffy tried to protect us. 

I fear she might start asking questions again, but she nods in understanding and we agree to stay still on the subject. For now at least. I can't even tell her how important this is, I can't explain.

God, I hate this life.


	10. part 9

unreality9 ****

Part Nine

There are five of them. No change that to eight. They knew we were coming. Two of them grab hold of me, while a third tries to stake me. I barely twist out of the way in time to avoid turning to dust. Their grip isn't strong enough and I get loose. I manage to get them out of the way, we both do.

But before I can even congratulate myself on surviving I'm attacked by a Snarl demon.  
Now don't blame me for the stupid name. The thing is actually called that way. Probably by someone with a very limited imagination. It's big, and bad. Out to destroy everything in sight and kill everyone unfortunate enough to be in its path.  
The perfect demon mercenary.

It stabs at me with his claws and I'm still slowed down by the stake in my side. The Slayer attacks it from the back and I try and pull out the stake to use it as a weapon. It grabs my wrist and sticks the thing even deeper. I'm forced to let go as it pushes me to the ground. Its then that I let go of reason and push him away to the other side of the lot.

I rage in a loud growl and fly at him, releasing my fury in endless blows. If only for a second to forget the pain I'm in. Its dead before I'm even aware that I'm tearing it apart. I'm just standing there, waiting to see the Slayers reaction. Then I hear her scream. 

I turn around just in time to see a set of vampires grab hold of her. I want to stop them. But some more grab me as well. It's then that I see their of my kind. Old ones. Enforcers probably.

"What the hell."

Their age radiates from them. Not as old as LaCroix, but much, much older than me.  
I notice the carnage around us. What does it matter? They were only Demonbreed, killers, a threat to all of us anyway. I change my face as I throw one of them away. The second manages to get me down. They throw her in a dark van and I run at them, but they grab hold of me. My arms are pulled behind my back and tied with some kind of metal cuffs. They hurt my wrists as they touch my skin. The damn things must be consecrated. 

I rage in pain, but its nothing to them. One of them takes a dark hood and pulls it over my head. There's a cross emblazoned inside the cover. I pull back, trying to avoid it. Each time I get to close to it, my skin starts fuming. I close my eyes in pain and stop struggling. They grab the chance to tie my legs together. The string hurts. 

God, what did I do wrong? Did we go after the wrong gang? Was anyone getting worried?  
I tried so hard to keep her away from the community. Didn't they see that?

I can hear Clarice insulting them, yelling at them. Her words stop as I hear a slap on flesh. Then all I hear is the rustle of her clothing as we're driven away.  
Why aren't we death yet? I yelp loudly with every shake the van makes and can feel someone's boot kicking at the stake in my side. 

By the time the van finally stops I'm too exhausted to move. I scream loudly as one of them pulls out the stake. And I touch my side, as if there's something missing. The hood is pulled away and I get to really look at them for the first time. I don't recognize any of them. Out of towners probably.

I hiss at the feel of the burns on my skin. They don't bother to say a word and one of them pulls me on his shoulder. I'm not even allowed to walk for myself. The Slayer tries to fight, but they're too powerful for her. Too old, too many.  
She'll die and it'll be all my fault.

I stare as they drag her away. I call out her name, but it's useless as I too am dragged away and thrown in some pit of darkness. I hear one last snort from my guard and roll up as tight as I can. I try and get to my feet, but it's hopeless to even think I can loosen my ties. They're simply too strong.

The worst of it is the silence. Before I could still hear her heartbeat, but now even that is missing. The girl could be dead already and there's nothing I can do to save her.  
My eyes never leave the door as I wait for anything. Any chance, any hope.  
Any moment now they can come and I might do something … or not.  
There isn't a sound though, not even a distraction from my own missing heartbeat or lack of breath.

Nothing.   
And a silence that seems to go on forever.

I'm almost happy when they do show up. I almost thank the enforcer that pulls me up, our faces so close, as if he wants to spit on me. But I'm just happy to see someone.   
Three others join me inside and one of them unties my legs.   
Four guards for little old me. I'd be flattered if I weren't to busy being terrified.

Someone calls out my name as they push me into a grand hall. I pull my head straight and see it's the Slayer. She seems so small, tied to a rack as she is. I struggle for a moment, trying to get to her. Then I see the tribunal. Three vampires of immense age, glaring at me. Our judges apparently, I wonder who'll be the executioner. It's then as I look around that I find him. He's still as arrogant as ever. Even tied up as he is, they couldn't take his sense of self worth. His sense of menace.

The guard closes to me, pushes me forward again and I stumble, falling on my knees in front of the table.  
I bow my head in submission, barely seeing Willow who's sitting there as well, bound to a chair.

"Alexander Lavelle Harris.  
Childe of Janette du Charme of the bloodline of Lucius Constantinus.   
This tribunal is brought aware of grave charges against you. "

I look up at them for a moment. They're completely serious. I want to mock them. To stand up against them and insult them for daring to judge me. But instead I say nothing, allowing myself to be ruled by silence for once in my life.

He is already reading a litany of my crimes.  
Treason of my kind. Aiding and abetting a hunter, a Slayer no less.

"Is there anything to say in your defense?"

I try to catch my grandsires eyes. Even if only to ask for his forgiveness, but mostly for his advice, any idea on what to do.

"You even corrupted an elder of the community. Making him aid you in your betrayal.   
For weeks now he has been hindering the Enforcers in their duty. Bullying them to stand aside. No more."

The vampire goes completely silent. I look at Willow, then at Clarice.

"What is your plea?"

"Guilty." I whisper, praying they'll let them go, if only they can have my life.

The tribune nods and both LaCroix and Clarice are pulled closer. They're both bound, unable to escape. I stare at Willow, willing her to tell me what was going on. But she had as little a clue as I had.  
Clarice is still fighting, but LaCroix is dead calm.  
Willow stares at me, accusing and begging at the same time.

Someone unties the cuffs that hold my hand and for a second I see the symbol of the trinity on the link.  
There's a stake lying on the table. It looks dark, cold.

"You are given a choice young one.  
A choice for the course of your life.  
One of the two must die.  
Only one death and you can leave, taking the other two with you.  
A simple choice boy, one life for two.  
Which do you choose. The vampire … or the Hunter."

My gaze is bound tightly between the two of them. I can't think straight. I'm hungry and I just know I don't want to choose. But they won't let me hesitate any longer.

I move up and take the stake. Holding it, moving it from one hand to another.   
LaCroix doesn't even flinch as I turn to him.   
His cold dignity doesn't waver for even a second. He challenges me to kill him. And I don't know what choice to make.

If I kill him it'll be all over. I could go back with Clarice and Willow. She'll have to accept me if I killed my own grandsire for her. What is he to me anyway? He's been nothing but pain since the first day we met.  
It would be getting rid of him. Life without having to look over my shoulder for him coming after me.

I raise the stake, ready to plunge it in. I stare at him, trying to be cold and calculating about it. I turn to the tribunal one last time, facing them, as if to beg. But their eyes hold no mercy.

LaCroix or the Slayer.  
Who ever said there was a choice?


	11. Epilogue

****

Epilogue

Willow.  
Her shoulders are all hunched down. She was old before, but now it looks as if she really is. I wanted to talk to her, to explain, but she refused to even look at me. Not that I could have expected her to understand. Even I don't get it.  
I feel a hand on my arm and I want to shake it of. I turn around and look at him.

LaCroix doesn't even need to say a word. How did he get loose, I didn't untie him. I wipe the blood of my lips with the back of my hand and look at the gentle stripe that appears. She was so young, and old at the same time.  
I don't think she was even surprised when she felt me killing her.  
She fought, but more as if it was expected of her. She didn't say a word, not a single sound.  
Just … disappointed.

"You are aware that the choice was inevitable. You would have had to make it sooner or later."

And a choice I've made.  
I'm a vampire. I can never go home again.  
Worst of all, he was probably never in danger. And I can't even blame him for that.

I'm all alone in the darkness again. The only thing waiting for me is LaCroix. He's standing there in the door. I follow him and turn back one last time. There tied to the ground, it's not just her body that died. It's me, my old self and my best shot at redemption. 

I could have gone back, but instead I'm here now. Her blood on my hands, on my tongue.  
Vampire, nothing more, forever.   
There's no hope for redemption left, no prayer for the damned.  
Only LaCroix to lead the way, further into the darkness.

*** finis ***


End file.
